Arise
by Elanwye
Summary: At the dawn of time, born from the ashes... comes a glittering soul, unsure which path to take...yet ready to face the world anew.


Disclaimer: I do not own Dragons Dogma, nor am I profiting off of it without prior permission. The universe you are about to enter, however, is entirely mine to tell in any way I see fit.

You have been warned.

PROLOGUE

Peaceful, calm, and typical was the day of the fisherman.

Quietly they murmur, careful as not to disturb the day's catch. The setting of the hot sun is imminent, but with it comes a strange occurrence. The air becomes thick with a kind of energy that raises hairs and causes the hearts-pace to quicken. Many are suspicious, but no action is taken as of yet.

Then, from out of the very air comes a great cloud, swirling about dangerously fast in their direction. As thunder draws near, curiosity soon became fear:

"Where did that come from? Such a storm!" " We'd best hurry away!" "Do you hear them?" "The fish! Preserve the fish!"

Soon the chieftain is sent to bring this to the attention of the town guard, the report finding its way quickly in the wake of its urgency. Guard Grecio flies then to the bell-tower, sounding the bells an exact number of times. The rush of armor follows, gleaming in the sun, standing firmly in the center.

The captain, remarkably tall and hazel-eyed, responds to the signal with great haste. Sending a few guardsmen to hide the women and children. As he reaches the sandy banks with his small company, he espies the towns folk- scrambling, haphazardly, aimlessly, and frantically about the docks. Keen eyes search for the root, finding only a great and irregular thunderstorm in the skies...and...something red-

The village shook suddenly as the weight of the red monstrosity settles upon the docks with a deafening hum. Before the dust settles, song, eerily fills the air. Entrancing and melodious, yet very sour. Half-dazed by the quaking of the earth, the captain finds himself weightless, and at a great distance from the ground! Below he saw a great Wyrm, a creature come straight from legend, painted red, breathing hell-fire into Cassardis. Above him, yet another faerie-tale come to light.

Many succumb to sleep as a result of the foul yet enchanting melody of the Harpy - as he quickly realizes – woman-like scavengers which in tale were known to take the young and plump...feeding them to their offspring as mere snacks.

Using his weight and tricky maneuvering, the captain imbalances the demon. The result sends him tumbling onto a fishing rack, which collapses underneath his armor. The harpy seems unfazed, crying out mockingly before continuing instead to its next victim. Several moments pass before he attempts to stand again, and several more before his draws his sword.

Impervious to both arrow and blade, The Dragon looks disinterested as many in vain try to halt its progress. Exhaustion overcomes the guardsmen in effort to break his armor. But then, for what was the point of its presence? Meanwhile, hot flames curl from his throat, incinerating in seconds, black steeped claws brushing away guards as if they were but flies.

"Nothing is working!" Shouts the guard in dismay, morale was dwindling as iron arrows flew off in angles and blades made nary a scratch, the wet sand beneath their greaves making for difficult movement, sapping more stamina with every desperate swing.

The captain, pushing desperately to keep his guards by his side, makes his voice loud and clear. "Keep at it men! 'Ere all will be lost!"

Then, from the thrush came a native, clad in only fishing garb, with a pewter dagger poised to plunge. The guard hardly noticed her in the heat of the moment, even as she did what they could not, years and years of training outdone by a mere fisher.

Fiery eyes twitch in momentary surprise.

A cut! How curious! A rusted and bent long sword had dug its way into those palms like a troublesome splinter!

A strange expression then floods into his hellish gaze, as if in recognition. He pauses, before a brief grin appears, if one could call it that. The offender finds themselves underneath his great palm, choking on the saltwater, attempting to pry off the massive claws that caged them.

Chanting in a foreign speech, fire and ice coating its forked tongue, nature bristling and yet rejoicing- such a tumultuous atmosphere surrounds them both, that none could attempt entry without injury.

It is unknown how it came to be, but the dragon flees, far- far to the north. His minions riding his coattails. The body of the very same woman wet with the saltwater, now lies in the sand...

Lacking a heart.

END OF PROLOGUE

I don't know. I don't know what I look like, I don't know what I am, if I am... If I... If I exist. I don't recall a beginning nor an end. A single memory other than being here in this abyss is absent from memory. History is what I desire, but lack. So I keep my mental account, here. Until the time comes...

_But there is no way out. _

Always dark, always silent. I feel restless, tired and defenseless... A wandering being, is that what I am? Even that I am unsure.

_I need to be observant._

I wonder...and wander... but nothing comes to pass. Was it always this way? Nothing changes, but I am constantly on the look out.

_For the chance to escape._

Once I contemplated death, but that was some time ago, when I was driven insane countless times. The idea was later dismissed when I realized that I had nothing to kill myself with...and mere wishful thinking did not grant me my peace.

So I wait for that opening...then...

I _hear _them.

Light, melodious. Twinkling, carefree sounds.

They did not return.

So I pondered and pandered, trying my best to replay those sounds over and over again... but eventually they were lost. Unable to be withdrawn again from my limited memory. I felt such sadness, as if I lost something dear to me. I couldn't remember the sounds, I couldn't hear it again. The light twinkling, uplifting and joyful sounds. The only companion in this dreadful existence, which made me feel lighter than before. But no more. Thus began the cycle of madness that haunted me so long ago.

Sleep, cry, laugh. Rinse, Repeat...

…

I _feel it._

Smooth, and soft. Full and teasing. Everywhere, and all at once. It made me smile and wanting for more, and since it stayed, I was happy. For a time.

Then it was gone, like the sounds. I couldn't- I just couldn't...

Anxiety and hopelessness filled me again, I felt unloved, even when there was nothing to 'love' me. Why am I conscious? Why can I feel? This is torture I did not want, I rather not hear nor feel at all, to never feel the loss. I do. Not. Want. This...yet...both sound and feeling came. I became euphoric, and happiness filled my every inch as both simplicities returned to me. If I felt anymore I swear I could implode, this is too much, but I do not wish it away. I wanted them both, here, with me, forever...

I...would be content.

…

By now I should have expected the sharp abandonment, but I did not. I am left alone, in the blighted dark...again. I weep, but I have not the eyes. I laugh, but lack the tongue. Sleep...without a body.

The cycle repeats.

Between all my self-loathing and hysteria, something appears to me... something... something other than the overwhelming darkness. A golden window. White handles, silver etching. How did it came to be? Was it always there? I do not recall. Perhaps this is my opportunity...perhaps this is my chance.

As I edge closer, I hear it again. The light, dulcet, spritely sounds. Closer still, I feel comfort, security, and warmth...never before experienced! I open the window hurriedly, with an all-encompassing need-

**_"Newly Arisen, walker of the path...take up arms. To me...come to me..."_**

And I_ see_.

….

Alone she rises, arms reaching out and gasping for air- as if long bereft. The air that surrounds her is heavy, laden with salt, but it was fresh, and it blows ever so softly at her face. Wind, she knows it was, but how and where that information comes from is not available to her. Rest she knows she had, but for how long, and again why is still alluding her. Resting her fingers on the lid of her bed, she shakily stands up and takes in many things at once. Names pouring into her at a fast pace. The dull gray of the cut stone, the white orchids that fell down her long hair, and the light of the full moon that illuminated the darkness through a guarded window.

"What is this place..." She whispers quietly, taking a shaky step from her rest.

Spread at her feet are flowers of various kinds, most dried from the passage of time, but their sweet essence remains. Carvings of animals lie close to her bed of stone, she feels their stare keenly while searching about the room. Small plates of silver and copper line down the steps, few baring ripe fruits. She plucks several from their nest, feeling an overwhelming desire within her body to feed. Between bites she wonders aloud:

"Is this a crypt or a prison?"

She shakes her head. "I am alive, not dead...therefore..."

Searching for answers she looks for an exit- a door or opening of some kind. Her fingers scrape the smooth wall for signs of a lever, but none are found. It is very dark, even with the moonlight, and it seems that the room is meant to be entered from the outside. Defeat fell upon her swiftly as she strides to the window, extending her head past the bars.

She moans bitterly,"I'm on top of a cliff". "There's no way I'll get down alive."

Then a thought strikes her, perhaps it is better to sleep once more on her bed of stone, perhaps when the dawn comes it may bring with it visitors... who will open the door. Happy with her logic, she lies again in her flowery cask... uncomfortable as it is, and soon the dark fills her senses- calming her mind.

….

The sound of stone grinding against stone wakes her, and music fills the room. Light and airy, with soft footsteps not too far behind. She somehow remembers to keep still, and evens her breathing just before a soft gasp comes forth from her visitor.

"Rats!" A feminine voice murmurs testily. "They grow ever more ravenous, I will have to inform the guards. Again."

Ahhh, so she found the fruit pits...wait, there were rats?

As her woman-visitor comes closer, silence reigns once more, before it is eventually broken by a slight sound. The scent of incense now blankets the room.

"Avril...-"

Was that her name? Avril? Avril!

"-not a day has gone by where I wish you could awake, and see the world again with your very eyes. Instead of me telling you of it." The visitor breathes deeply.

"...It has been three years."

Avril nearly chokes on the dust in the room, while her informer becomes very silent, muttering in what seems to be in religious prayer. Very little can she hear, and unfortunately none of it she can make sense of. During this time, Avril listens. The cry of gulls pervade the air every so often, from two directions, the barred window and what must be the door to her encasement. Freedom, she can almost_ taste_ it! She is now very sure that she has been kept prisoner by a religious and crazy zealot. Who seems to care for her, but that just makes the whole ordeal even more frightening. Nearly was she about to take flight, when her jailor places a warm hand to her chest.

"Do not worry, I will return your heart to you. Rest now."

...

The twisted jailor left many moments ago, but more time did it take for the prisoner to regain control of their breathing and mental faculties. Sitting up, straight as a board, Avril wastes no more time. She takes to the far wall as would a fly to sap, and spreads her lithe arms wide to search for the door out- The suns rays making for an easier search.

"I know you're here somewhere...where did she push..." She can feel her blood pressure rising, despite her jailors implication of the lack of a heart. Finally, a clicking noise was made, and the rock door slides to the side. She makes a mental note to thank her lucky stars later, and without thinking she bumps into the wall.

How strange, it just opened didn't it?

* * *

Well, it is done! For now of course. For me it is always hard to begin, but as soon as you get me going...

Yeah. If there are any grammar mistakes, I apologize, I write often when I am exhausted and not in the right mind to do these sorts of things. Mostly.

TTYL


End file.
